Window Into the Heart of the Culture

The next evening, we met our first aloof person on the island. In this ten-table restaurant, the maitre d’ also served as the waiter. He was frantic and hurried us along to order. Overwhelmed with an unfamiliar menu, we told him “just bring your favorites.” We confused yet another waiter, and he knitted his eyebrows into a question, using two of a few English words he knew, “okay, yes?” Before long, plates brimming with cheese, figs, seafood and fresh vegetables began to appear. There was not enough room on the table for everything piled around us. We looked at each other with an uh oh big mistake, we’re going to get everything on the menu. The Frito Misto Frutti di Mare, a mixed platter of sardines, anchovies, tiny ‘popcorn’ squid, octopus and other unidentifiable small fish fried in olive oil made us swoon, as with each dish that appeared. We stacked plates to make more room. Knowing the bill would make us faint, we asked the waiter to stop. “Just little more,” he said firmly. We didn’t argue and welcomed limoncello, aged grappa, and cassata, a chocolate-raspberry filled Sicilian layer cake.